Skip to main content

Open House, Open Heart

It's funny how the universe sends you things you need....when you need them most.  Two days ago the radio was blaring the warning that Christmas was only a month away.  Yesterday it reminded everyone that a month from now all the Christmas hubbub would be over and you would be left with a mess or alternatively, standing in line somewhere to save $50 off a TV you really don't need.
 
I have to admit, I would love to go back to a time when I was just the kid...and the only thing I had to do was browse the Sears Wishbook (over and over)---or tag along behind my Nana as we paused at each of the meticulously decorated windows at the Simpsons building downtown in the 'big city'.  Stress was reserved for grownups.  I dreamed of sleigh bells in the air, snowmen I would build and the smell of eggnog and aftershave as 50 or more people filled out house each Christmas Eve.  Cookies were consumed, candy jars raided, fires crackled and laughter filled the house with a loving energy.
 
Now, my extended family is fractured some and through the years people have drifted apart or moved away (that would be me).  My mom now winters in Florida, and my dad has passed.  Those times I remember as a child will never be again and I have made little effort to recreate my own version of a house filled with love and life on a big scale.
I miss it.
 
Christmas now means remembering gifts for teachers and bus drivers and colleagues. Baking and freezing cookies we seldom ever consume, in an attempt to bring one piece from my past into today.  It means worrying about gifts--too many--too few--too big---to small and wishing I could slow the days down to enjoy the carols, the snow.
 
We have new traditions though which will now be traditions to my kids who will grow up knowing nothing else.  We still watch the old children's Christmas classics....we put out milk and cookies and for our Christmas dinner (even if it is a bucket of fast food chicken --which it was the Christmas I had a one month old!)  we pop Christmas crackers--wear the hats--and share the riddles of jokes.
 
What came my way today that put me in this reflective state of mine was Lisa-Jo Baker's blog post :

The tired mother's holiday creed via lisajobaker.com
 
The Tired Mother's Holiday Creed.  I will print and post this on my fridge.  It feels familiar.  It feels right.  It feels like the perfect thing I needed to read today.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Shame is A Full-Contact Emotion (Brené Brown)

It is a cool outside this morning and I have on my fluffy red robe as I sit outside and watch the birds flit back and forth from the fence to the feeder----arrogantly tossing aside imperfect sunflower seeds to get to the good ones.   The discarded seeds, some empty, some full, punctuate my deck, waiting for the squirrels, who will later claim this easy buffet. I am still reading Brené and The Gifts of Imperfection. Feels a bit like learning a new language ---I see the words---I hear the words---but the meaning is so diffuse...I need to read and reread and sometimes, even read out loud to make the words stick It is hard work.    And while the smooth cover of her book lies balanced on my palm, seemingly weightless, many of the concepts have a density that knocks me flat on my ass ---like a large medicine ball. CATCH THIS ONE!   Oooooooof!   I am down.    Eyes wide, trying to catch my breath, wrestling with the weight of hefty concepts like shame, authenticity, wholeh
Post a Comment
There is more good stuff--keep reading»

Dr. Dr.

When we moved to Brampton I needed to find a family doctor---at 37--not married--two weeks into a new job in a different city--sleeping on an air mattress on the floor while my partner and son were wrapping things up in our London condo where they were still living---I found myself pregant . I went online and found a website that provided the names of doctors in various parts of Ontario who were accepting patients.  Of the few names listed I was immediately attracted to one.  Dr. Patricia Francis--a woman --who had studied in Ireland.  This to me was a sign. I am of Irish background and if you know Brampton at all you will know that finding her seems like a bit of the luck o' the Irish.  I was escorted into a room where a lovely coffee skinned, well dressed woman with a gorgeous South African accent I couldn't place asked the reason for my visit.  I told her I needed to speak to the doctor about a bit of a crisis.  Her eyes popped open as she sat down putting one hand on m
4 comments
There is more good stuff--keep reading»

Asking for Help

My oldest son walked into the kitchen last night while I was drying the pot I had just used to make marshmallow squares.  He leaned against the wall, eyes downcast, unfocused and spoke in a soft voice: "Mom.  Tomorrow.  Just so you know.  Something has happened and I cannot remember a SINGLE thing about ANY of the stuff that will be on the exam.  So.  Just so you aren't expecting anything.  I am going to fail the exam.  Probably need summer school.  Will have to quit my job.  Will get my university offer rescinded. But it is probably too late for summer school so.  It is just all over." I put down the pot and gave him a hug.  (no hug back) I told him it was fine. He was fine. He remembered stuff--he had an 87 going into the exam! You can't have marks like that if you don't remember stuff?! Right? I could see the tears forming in his eyes.  He still wouldn't look at me. "Ok.  Get your jacket we are going for a walk.  Your brain is in overload a
4 comments
There is more good stuff--keep reading»